Shout 2000
by theRegalBeagle
Summary: Rated T to be save. A bit out of character for Silas and Sauniere, but go with me on this one. What if Sauniere escaped Silas' fate for him? Or at least for a little while? Would the story be any different? Read to find out...
1. Chapter One: Pretty Fast for an Old Guy

_**Shout 2000 **_

by theRegalBeagle

**Disclaimer:**_ The title of this fic is actually a song by the band Disturbed, but I'm borrowing it for the time being. Thanx Disturbed! I do not own Silas, Langdon, Neveu, or Teabing…….or Sauniere. But I would be happy to take the rights of Silas off of Dan Brown's hands if he…like…didn't want them anymore or something…….just throwing it out there. _

_Call me. _

**A/N:**_This takes place when Silas is "hunting" Sauniere down in that French gallery….Louvre….or something. Whatever. Details are for the weak at heart. :cough: _

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**Chapter One -**_ Pretty Fast for an Old Guy…_

_Unbelievable…_he thought as he hurriedly pushed open a door at the end of the gallery. In French, in big bold, red letters, the word '**EXIT**' hung over the door. When the door opened and he stepped in, his red eyes glared at the many steps in front of him. Clutching the gun in his pale, white hand, Silas quickly started running down them. "He can not get far…I will make sure of that…" He recollected the resent events that took place:

The hulking (_hah! Brown's not the only one who can use that word!_) albino was told to find Jacques Sauniere, interrogate him, and take the information given on the keystone. Instead, the chase took an incredible turn for the worst. Reaching the Grand Gallery, Sauniere himself took out a gun. Startling him with the first shot, Silas hid behind the corner leading into the gallery, safely out of Sauniere's range. Silas waited impatiently for a few seconds, and then he began to come out. Another shot…nearly hitting him. Instead, though, it missed and the bullet went straight into a porcelain Renaissance vase. _Thank God…_Silas looked up, the very tip of an iron gate stuck out of the ceiling. One wrong move and he could be trapped. Silas figured the police would be notified, but knew his mission was too important for Opus Dei and the Church. Taking a deep breath, he raised his weapon and jumped out. He shot a few rounds, all the while running to the other side of the Gallery's entrance. When he reached the other corner he closed his eyes and listened.

Silence.

_Did I not hit him?_ Silas thought he would have heard an old man gasping in pain, or at least in fear and surprise. Instead, he heard nothing. Not even a single breath. He inched his way out of his newly acquired hiding spot and looked in the gallery. He saw his gun shots on a wall in the middle of the gallery. Paintings hung all around the shots, but none were hit. "Good aim, I suppose…" Silas looked left and right. Sauniere was no where in eyesight. Whether he was hiding in a spot like behind the lonely shot up wall…or if he already escaped, Silas wasn't sure.

"Monsieur, I wouldn't expect a man of your…_caliber_ and power…" Silas slowly eased his way into the Louvre's Grand Gallery. It was huge, and rooms jutted out of it. All of the doors to those rooms were shut; most likely locked at this time of night, "…and sophistication to carry a gun." Silas stopped in his tracks. He heard a snickering.

"It is because of my caliber and power and sophistication that I carry a gun around, sir. What is your reason?" Silas looked from wall to wall, from the ceiling to the center shot up wall. He raised his gun and almost immediately his target stepped out from behind the wall. He aimed faster than Silas could raise his gun, and shot. Silas followed his action while quickly falling to the side.

His white body fell to the floor, his gun slipping from his grasp. He looked up, expecting to see an old man aiming a rusty gun at his head. Instead, he saw that same old man racing for a door with the French version of '**EXIT**' hanging over the top.

"Stop!" Silas picked himself up and grabbed his gun as he ran to the exit. Sauniere turned around as he began closing the door. Silas caught his eyes and suddenly felt his body freeze up. He was paralyzed, unable to move. He never took his eyes off of his prey's. Sauniere returned the favor…then stuck his hand out and showed his gun. It wasn't rusty, it was almost brand new. Silas had no clue as to what was happening. He tried to speak; he tried to yell something…anything. Instead he just stood frozen and stared as Jacques Sauniere, the last _sénéchaux_, dropped his gun and slammed the door shut. Silas could hear the clicking sound of the lock, "His keys…."

Silas, suddenly realizing what happened, shook his head and looked at his gun. He ran over to Sauniere's abandoned weapon, still in a daze, and stuck it in his pocket. He tried to push the door open, but it wouldn't budge. So, instead he held the barrel of his gun and slammed down with little effort onto the handle of the door. It cracked off. The door slid open automatically and Silas walked through.

Running down the steps, Silas realized that Sauniere was leading him to the basement. Was he leading him? Or was he running away, trying to find the best routes in the French museum? Either way, Silas could not give up. Fear had to be forgotten from his mind.

As he reached the last few steps, he jumped down from the ones he was currently occupying. The less steps, the better. Silas hit the ceramic floor and felt the teeth of his thigh's tormentor dig into his fresh flesh (_tongue-twisters for all!_). Used to the pain of his _cilice_, he took up speed as he ran down a short hallway at the bottom of the steps. Without thinking, Silas held the barrel of his gun again and jabbed it into the handle on the new exit door. Chances that it was locked as well were big. _Why waste time finding out…_Silas pushed the door open and quickly scanned his current setting……

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_**A/N:** First of all, I am just assuming that Silas had no idea that Sauniere was the supposed Grand Master of the Priory of Sion. I figure he thought he was just another _sénéchaux_. Also, if anything else about the Grand Gallery or the Louvre Museum or anything is wrong or historically inaccurate or……whatever, sorry! Rly am! Advice is accepted. _

_Thanx for reading. May be a while before the next chapter is up, but enjoy rereading this one! lol _


	2. Chapter Two: The Realms of Recovery

_**Shout 2000 **_

by theRegalBeagle

**A/N:**_ I would at this point like to thank my first reviewer for this particular fanfic, fabala4077. You are indeed a person of great sophistication (like me….yes….). I would also, at this point in time, tell everyone that the arrangements are being made for me and Silas' wedding. You're all invited! The shower is next Thursday. I wanted it today, but Silas said something about it being 6/6/06 and then ran off to pray, so…_

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**Chapter Two:**_ The Realms of Recovery _

Jacques Sauniere looked at his Rolex. It said three'o'clock, but Sauniere knew it was wrong. His expensive watch had been broken for months now. He kept forgetting to get it fixed, or at least buy a new one. So used to putting it on every morning and taking it off every night, Sauniere's compulsion got the better of him every time. Whether or not it was nine at night or ten in the morning did little help for the old curator at this point in the game, though.

Only mere moments ago, Sauniere was shooting at a Catholic monk to save his life. The holy warrior had his hood up, so Sauniere could barely see his face. But his hands were as white as a ghost, and his long, pointy fingers wrapped around a gun. It was apparent almost instantly to Sauniere that the monk had not planned for a shoot out. This gave Sauniere the edge that he needed to win the first battle.

Now, hiding behind the door of one of the many art recovery rooms in the basement of the Louvre museum, Sauniere could not get a certain picture out of his thoughts and out of his head: as he began to shut the exit door, he turned and saw the face of his enemy. The light had shown just right as the pale holy man stopped short. An angelic, young face…with devilish eyes that shown back at him. But even the fire that shown darkly behind those red eyes could not stop Sauniere from feeling like he was in the presence of an angel. Whether it was just the soft lighting or his own eyes playing silly tricks on him, Sauniere was not sure. He might never be sure. All he could do was drop his gun and lock the exit door from his side.

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Silas stood staring at some painting of a grassy plain. A farmhouse sat in the background and a broken down tractor peeked out of the side of it. A mill blew in the breeze as the sun set all the way in the back of a beautiful mountain. Just as the time did little help for Sauniere, the painting did absolutely nothing for the pale monk. Even though this was the first room that he had checked after he reached the basement, Silas expected to find the curator and knower of the keystone hiding away in it. Usually his instincts were right, too.

He turned around and looked out one of the clear glass walls that surround the art recovery room. There must have been dozens of rooms just like the one he was standing in throughout this basement, and still Silas was unsure why they needed so many of them, "If art is this troublesome and fragile than why bother?" Silas decided that it must have had something to do with money and the public, then walked out of the room.

Silas stared down the long, well-lit corridor and sighed. He hated when an enemy ran. Taking out the gun that Sauniere had left behind, he examined it. There were still three bullets left. His gun was near empty as well.

That didn't matter though, because he would only need one bullet to take Sauniere out. He quickly placed the curator's gun in his robe's one and only pocket, lifted his hood, and walked down the hallway with confidence, "Bastard".

Silas turned quickly. His adrenaline rushed as her looked back and forth, from glass wall to glass wall. No one. _Who said that then?_ Silas grew frustrated fast.

"Where are you, monsieur?" Silas yelled. He raised his gun, and shot a glass window. It shattered into a million pieces. Still, all stayed silent, "I will find you…but you know that." A smirk crossed his face. Saying a little pray, Silas shot another window. Then another, and another.

He took a few steps to the first window that he destroyed. The bullet flew through the window and then through a beautiful painting of a women. Silas stared at the painting. He stared at the bullet.

If the woman was real, blood would be slowly dripping from between her eyes.

Silas turned around. His frustration grew more and more. _Where are you..._He walked to the middle of the corridor and closed his eyes. He breathed slowly, almost to an unheard rhythm. His pale ears twitched as he lowered his gun.

An old air conditioner, shards of glass still falling…no breathing.

A squeaky chair, the smell of blood on his body…and a cough. Small, deep, real. Now he had him. Silas looked up and turned to his right. The room right next to the one with the damaged women. A smile crossed his face.

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Sauniere sat frozen. He was sitting behind a desk in one of the recovery rooms, when he noticed a painting on the wall, waiting to be fixed. He remembered how time and time again he begged the young man who uses the room to hurray up and take care of it. _He said he would…_Sauniere almost destroyed the painting once because he was fighting so hard with the young man…Jean, yes Jean was his name. Sauniere barely knew him.

Those memories made him so frustrated, "Bastard."

That one word may cost him his life. Did he hear? He didn't seem like the brightest man in the world…maybe he didn't. Sauniere's anxieties slowly faded. Until he heard a voice.

"Where are you, monsieur?" The accent strange, and light. _Damnit!_ Sauniere held his breath as the angelic monk shot the glass that surrounded him.

Then the monk fell silent. Not a sound come from him. Maybe he left. Sauniere slowly stood up. He expected to see broken glass everywhere, and not a single soul around. Instead, he was greeted with broken glass on the floor, on paintings, and on the bottom of the deadly monk's robe. The monk stood there, head down, hood up. His gun at his side. Thinking if he was quiet enough he could escape, Sauniere started to move away from the desk. As he did, he looked to the room next to the one he occupied. _No!_

Shocked and frightened, Sauniere let out what he thought would be a gasp. Instead he coughed, like his weak heart couldn't take the sorrow he felt for the women in the other room. She may not have been real, but he remembered passing her everyday as he walked through he museum.

Realizing the sound he made, Sauniere froze. The monk moved his head up. As he turned around, Sauniere quickly dunked back behind the desk. _Oh, Lord…_Sauniere though that the monk would run up and shoot him between the eyes, just like the painting. But, no. He didn't run up. He didn't pull a gun out. And he didn't shoot him between the eyes. Instead, Sauniere heard a few footsteps, and some pieces of glass being stepped on…then silence. Like the albino just disappeared, taken by the Lord for his loyalty. Even though Sauniere believed he was safe, his body thought otherwise. He shook crazily, his teeth chattering. His eyes could not stay still, and his face was wet. It was like his body was trying to tell him something. Something he should know…

"You have something that you would like to say to me, monsieur?" Sauniere instinctively looked up. The angelic young face that he saw behind stared at him, gun in hand, "Then why not be a man and say it to my face?" Sauniere was paralyzed. He stared at the gun.

"Wha-what do you want from me?" Silas' smirk disappeared. He dropped his gun and moved closer to his victim. Bending down, Silas grabbed Sauniere's coat and lifted him, "Don't you ever run from me. Because it will just make things worse." Silas could feel the sweat dripping onto his hands off of Sauniere's face. He smirked again, and then quickly threw the old man across the room.

Old bones on pure glass, Sauniere let out a yell, "I wasn't talking to you! But I might as well have been…you are just as much a bastard! Some follower of God you are!" Silas tilted his head and lowered his hood, "…You think he wants you to kill an innocent man?"

"You know what I want and why I want it. You are not an innocent man as far as I am concerned, monsieur. Watch your tongue…" Sauniere's eyes grew big and wide as the pure white, red eyed, young albino slowly walked closer and closer to him. "Stay away!"

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_**A/N:** Yeah, not as good as the first one…well I was listening to music while trying to stay awake as I wrote the ending. Let it go, alright? You pushy people….that's right; I said **pushy** people…take that home, chew it, it's delicious. _

_Also, not to sure if Sauniere was a Rolex kinda' guy, but he is now. That's right, I said it; he is now. _


	3. Chapter Three: So Many to Kill

_**Shout 2000 **_

by theRegalBeagle

**Disclaimer: **_Again, I do not own The Da Vinci Code. Dan Brown does. That means that I do not own Silas or Sauniere. Or Langdon, Neveu, or Teabing. They don't actually appear in this story, but I didn't want to get any stupid people out there confused. _

**A/N:**_Read on!! _

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**Chapter Three – **_So Many to Kill…_

"Stay Away!" Sauniere's old and fragile back ached from its contact with the glass wall that he was now laying against. He wished he could push against it, break it, then he would be able to run away from the man that may be the last contact with a human being he'll ever have. The man, a pale Catholic. A monk with a gun. Most likely two, if he had picked Sauniere's up when the curator had dropped it.

Jacques Sauniere shut his eyes. He had no doubt that the monk would kill him.

Sophie.

_My sweet…_Sauniere thought of how he and his dear granddaughter had so long ago ended it. Destroyed their happy and beautiful life together. Most importantly, he did not want his enemies, these "Catholics", to find out the secret that he has kept for so long…or find out about Sophie. Thinking of his dear's hatred for him, Sauniere felt a little pleased with his current situation. _How can I feel guilty and hurt if I am dead?_ He thought.

"Monsieur?" Sauniere opened his eyes. His killer was getting impatient with him for some reason.

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Silas looked down at the already wasting man lying at his feet, propped up against the glass wall just like a rag doll. He watched him shake, beg, tremble. Then he watched him shut his eyes. The _sénéchaux_ lip's moved slightly to his thoughts. What he was thinking about was debatable. It also held no interest for Silas, as the man slowly stopped shaking.

No fear was no fun. _No matter…_he thought, _it will all be over shortly_. "Monsieur?" Sauniere opened his eyes and looked up at the albino, "Any last words before you leave this world?" Silas began lifting his gun. Technically it was the old man's, but it wouldn't matter when Sauniere was dead and the keystone was the Teacher's. _The Bishop and the Teacher will be so pleased_…Silas thought.

"Maybe you would like to tell me where the secret keystone is? Hm?" Sauniere heard this and quickly straightened his body out.

"Never will I tell you where such a thing is. You are wasting your time with me." Silas smirked and put his gun to his side. With his free hand, and to Sauniere's surprise, the white monk lifted the curator up and pulled him close, "Tell me…_now_!" Sauniere flinched.

Usually he could contain his aggression in his voice. But the stakes were too high to waste time with a mere old curator. He saw another flinch come from the man. A free minutes soon passed after that, leaving the monk even more impatient and Sauniere even more anxious about his opponents next move.

Silas thought about how important the keystone was to his superiors. They would be so happy and ecstatic if he – no, when he receives – the keystone. And he knew that if he took to long word of his search for the keystone would spread. To many people with to many contacts could find out. And that would not please his superiors any at all.

Looking face to face with one of the four protectors of the Catholic church's destroyer, Silas lost his nerve. He would not let the Teacher don't. And he especially would not let the Bishop don't…_not after all he has done for me_.

"I am sick and tired of your silence!" he yelled as he threw the curator across the room again. This time he did not stop until he reached the next room, slamming into a crooked wooden desk. Silas quickly turned around and headed straight for Sauniere.

"You will tell me!" He picked him up as Sauniere was getting to his knees.

"No! Please stop!" Sauniere held his breathe as he was thrown into the corridor. But before he could think or comprehend anything, the same strong pale hands latched around his neck and held his breath in place, "Why must you be so difficult? If not for me for you!" He shoved Sauniere down at the same time that he raised his knee.

Sauniere tried to scream, tried to make any sound that would help release this pain that conquered his stomach. But his breath stayed put, frozen by the icy cold hands around his neck. Sauniere felt as though his spine was cracking by Silas' hands around the top of it…and he could have swore that the monk's knee went straight through him, jabbing his spine as well as any organs in the way.

Silas' rage was building up. He knew that if he wasn't to careful and last to much control he would surely kill the last man that he needed evidence from. Three sénéchaux already told the truth, retelling the last one's keystone hiding spot. If Sauniere told of the same place, the same spot then his work will have been completed for the most part. Acquiring the keystone from whoever was guarding it would be too easy, it didn't even bother need planning.

Silas could sense the pain as well as see the pain that the curator was in. No air, a jab in the stomach, and his life's devotion almost down the drain. _Almost…_Silas thought, " I highly doubt that it can even be considered that anymore." Sauniere looked at Silas through the corner of his eye. Suddenly he felt a release on his neck. Breath unfroze and warmed his body, giving him some relaxation from the pain. It felt like the sweetest sensation he had ever received.

Gaining color in his skin again, Sauniere fell to the floor of the corridor that helped light up the Art Recovery Rooms that lay in the basement of the Louvre. Many nights he spent here, either watching or even helping. He enjoyed it very much. It made him feel like a doctor…like the paintings were his peers and he had the gift that could attend to their cuts and bruises.

"Last chance, Sauniere." Sauniere looked up. Did he call him by his name? This shocked the man greatly. He didn't know why he was so surprised. It just never occurred to him that the pale monk would ever say it. Sauniere's name just rolled off the monk's tongue, like he had practiced it before coming after him.

"…you wouldn't kill me before I told you. I'm your only hope." Sauniere knew this wasn't true, and Silas knew that also (_obviously_). Silas raised his gun.

"Rather poetic that you die by your own weapon…your own bullets." Sauniere heard the click of the gun, "You think I did no research? I just came in here with a fifty percent chance of you working late? Hmm! I already had a talk with your other friends. They weren't as slow or as stupid as you are, Monsieur." Silas laughed quietly under his hood, "Well, as you were."

"NO! Okay! Okay. I will tell you what you want to know! Just please…don't shoot me, Monsieur!" Silas lowered the gun.

_He already talked with them…I know what they did…_Sauniere began describing the nesting place of the Priory of Sion's keystone. Outside the air blew cold winds through the streets of Paris. Leaves gathered under the wheels of cars parked for the night. Birds rested in their nests, waiting for the warmth of the sun to announce a new day.

"…and you will end your search with pride I hope." Silas smiled. _Four out of four…_Sauniere slowly stood up, "Now…leave my gallery. Go off with you!" Locking eyes, Sauniere was nerves about the smile…the grin, on Silas' face.

"I thank you, Monsieur. But Like your friends you are to knowledgeable. You are still a threat to the well-being of my mission and the Catholic church…my church. So I say goodbye to you."

_What!_ Sauniere froze. _No…_Silas slowly put the gun at eye level with Sauniere. It was obvious that fear and shock were paralyzing him.

"Pain is good." And with that, the monk who had killed so many had pulled the trigger of the gun that belonged to the man he was aiming at…...

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**A/N:** _Ha! Cliff-hanger!! I love it! Sry, guys, thought that this would add to the drama and suspense of the story. Don't worry, there is another chapter. I may end it at chapter four but I'm not sure. I should update it soon though…not like last time, right?_

_A great big 'you kick serious ass' to the fallowing reviewers: _

fabala4077:_ my first reviewer!_

Princess da Vinci:_ Like your crown, Princess!_

QueenCaroline:_ Long Live The Queen!_

Kelly Tolkien:_ Say hi to J.R.R. for me!_

storm-of-insanity:_ I enjoy storms! We should get together and talk about storms and insanity some time. _

_Yeah, that was rather corny. All of you guys are now in my Microsoft Word Dictionary. Stupid SpellCheck._


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